Torment
by Channel D
Summary: Jimmy is plagued by nightmares. What's causing them? Will he have to give up his job? One-shot, written for the NFA The Name's Palmer. Jimmy Palmer challenge.


**Torment**

**by channelD**

_written for_: the NFA _The Name's Palmer. Jimmy Palmer_ challenge

_rating_: K plus

_genre_: drama

_characters_: Jimmy, Ducky

- - - - -

_disclaimer_: I own nothing of NCIS.

- - - - -

"_Gah!!!"_

Jimmy woke up with a start. Classmates on either side of him gave him mild, quizzical looks; no one else paid him any heed. With a slight, sheepish smile, Jimmy nodded to them, and then peered down at his textbook.

_Did I say anything? I must have, but probably not very loudly._

_Why does this keep happening??_

Yet again he'd fallen asleep in class, only to be woken when the monsters came.

- - - - -

Jimmy Palmer, part-time medical school student and part-time assistant to a medical examiner, found his exposure to the dead a matter-of-fact experience. People died; everything died. It was part of Nature's way. From an early attraction to 1950s grade-B sci-fi/horror movies as a kid, he'd never thought mutilated bodies were frightening. They were instead a fascination to him: first, for the secrets they held; and then second, as he grew older and a sense of wanting to be helpful to his community grew within him, a desire to solve the mysteries of the deaths and help bring wrong-doers to justice.

So why now, why these nightmares?

At first he couldn't detect the source of his troubles. He'd only wake up in the dark of night feeling disturbed, and sweating; not being able to remember what it was that woke him. Gradually, over days, the dreams became more forceful and the final snatches of them would stay with him as he woke, sometimes making him shake.

It was the body parts. Illogically, as dreams are, the parts came alive in Autopsy; moving about and speaking to him, and him alone. Dr. Mallard appeared to not see or hear them. _What do you want of me?_ Jimmy asked them, soundlessly. But on a warlike look from the parts, he would wake up.

In terror.

Then it started carrying over to his class time. On these warm, mid-October days, with the air-conditioning now off for the season, the stuffy classrooms easily permitted drowsiness to enter…and along with that, uneasy dreams.

- - - - -

_Why is this happening to me?_ Jimmy had no answer. The nightmares seemed to come out of nowhere. Or from some sulphurous gateway to hell.

He dared not mention this to his teachers, or to Dr. Mallard, or anyone else, because they might think he was crazy. Or worse, joking. He did have a tendency to come across as funny, he knew, even when that wasn't his intention. The best he could hope for was that the terrors would stop as suddenly as they started. And so he went about his business, day after day, finding restful sleep ever harder to obtain. What little sleep he could get was soon interrupted.

- - - - -

_"Mister Palmer!"_

Jimmy jumped nearly a foot. "Uh, yes, Doctor Mallard! You were saying that…that…"

"Was my anecdote so ploddingly dull that it put you to sleep, Mister Palmer?" The ME's voice carried thin sarcasm.

"Uh, no, Doctor. It wasn't you at all." Jimmy felt about a foot tall. His mentor put up with so much from him; more than most people would, probably.

"Then pay attention, lad. And I think you can busy yourself weighing and measuring the organs of our lance corporal."

"Yes, Doctor." As Dr, Mallard went to work on something else; Jimmy retrieved the elected, excised organs one by one, and performed the required measurements of them. _Lungs…heart…liver…_ He'd done this hundreds of times before, without incident.

And he couldn't have explained, not coherently, why he was suddenly cowering and babbling on the floor.

- - - - -

"Easy, lad. Deep breaths."

"They were talking to me, Doctor!" Jimmy didn't know how long he'd been in this position. Dr. Mallard now sat beside him, one hand on his shoulder.

"Who was, Jimmy?"

"The…" _No_. He couldn't say it. If Mallard thought he was crazy, there would go his job. He shook his head.

"You're shaking like the proverbial leaf. Whatever has you so frightened? You can tell me, my boy. No one else need know."

"I'm going insane, Doctor." _There._

"What makes you think that?" the doctor asked kindly.

"I…aural and visual hallucinations."

Dr. Mallard's face took on a grave look. "Are you experiencing these now, Jimmy?"

"No…no, but just a moment ago…" Then he poured out the whole, sorry story of the sleep-broken nights and the dozing off in classes, and the demonic sounds from the organs that were the root of his torment. He ended with, "I guess…I guess I'd better offer my resignation, Doctor."

Mallard looked surprised. "Over a few nightmares? Everyone has those, Mister Palmer. You can't let them control your life. I've had more than I can count."

"But…if I'm really afraid of corpses…"

"_Are_ you, my boy?"

"No…I don't think so…"

"Then let us talk about this, and see what could be causing you trouble."

- - - - -

They went out to the Food Court for a little privacy away from NCIS. Over snacks, Mallard urged his protégé to tell all he could about his recent encounters with corpses. Jimmy did so, with detachment, for nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Then Mallard leaned forward. He had been counting the incidents on his fingers, for he had been right there each time Jimmy was. "You're missing one."

"One? One what, Doctor?"

"One body. The chief warrant officer found down by the docks. O'Leary was his name."

"Oh." Jimmy's breathing grew troubled.

"As I recall," Mallard said softly, watching Jimmy's face, "after you had placed the body in the body bag, you dropped it before getting it onto the gurney."

"I'm sorry," said Jimmy, his face crimson.

"Accidents happen, Jimmy. No harm done."

"Yes, there was!" Jimmy cried, and then lowered his voice on seeing Mallard's hand signals. "When we got the body back to Autopsy, it was harder to tell the circumstances of death. I may have botched everything because I was so clumsy. There's still not enough evidence for JAG to build a case."

Mallard rose and left the table, coming back a moment later with a fresh diet soda for Jimmy. "Last time I looked, there were still over 50 unsolved cases in the files. Chief O'Leary's may have been destined to be one of them, whether you had been involved or not."

"It's them," Jimmy said, staring into the distance. "His organs. I remember now, removing and weighing and measuring them. All the while thinking, did I damage something? Did I disturb something important? Those organs are blaming me for not allowing a killer to be brought to justice."

"Forgive me, Jimmy," Mallard said after snorting. "But I don't believe our CWO had a medical degree, so his organs had no right to second-guess you. Tell them to shut up, and let you get on with your work."

"It's that simple?" Jimmy said.

"Perhaps. Try it. You have nothing to apologize for, Jimmy. If anything, the dead owe you gratitude for doing your job well. You've helped crack many a case."

"Thank you, doctor. Thank you!" Jimmy felt a rush of happiness, as if a boulder had been removed from his path.

"Now go home and get the sleep you need. May it be restful!"

- - - - -

And so Jimmy did. Feeling the guilt gone, he was able to sleep through the night.

As he woke the next morning, the tail end of a dream was fading from his mind. He couldn't parse any part of it, but he thought he caught the words _thank you._

-END-


End file.
